Werewolf, Actually
by sendmeariver
Summary: Tired of Ministry officials disregarding her abilities, Hermione Granger decides to work as a lawyer in the magical world, especially dealing with clients who are discriminated by the others. She experiences an unexpected surprise when a werewolf! Draco Malfoy hires her. Not your typical werewolf-mate story.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note:

Hi! This came up to me one day when I was working on another fic. I hope you guys like it.

Disclaimer: All characters belong to J. K. Rowling.

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Hermione set down a romance novel Witch Weekly had claimed to be heart throbbing and wild with a grimace. The book was about a male alpha werewolf who had been savage and bloodthirsty, but his mate saved him from further evil and changed him. It was a kind of book Professor McGonagall would never approve of or even consider as literature. It featured way too much possessiveness and more than twenty versions of the sentence "She wanted to change him; she wanted to bring out the beastly side of him and show him the good, human side." It also featured too many inappropriate scenes.

The fact that she read Witch Weekly from cover to cover was her guilty little secret. She openly criticized the magazine for being ridiculous and full of gossip when she saw Ginny reading it, but she did have to admit that the novels that they recommended were scandalous but quite fun to read.

Hermione often wondered whether werewolves really had mates. The current trend of romance novels nowadays was werewolves and a concept they called soul mates. The books mainly portrayed the werewolf, usually male, falling in love at first sight, being insanely jealous of every male who dared to approach his mate, and always having a body of a bodybuilder with rippling muscles and "very clearly defined abs".

She knew that wolves had one mate that they stuck to until they died, similar to how humans got married and stayed with their spouses. However, she told herself, it wasn't as if those wolves looked upon their mates and fell in love at first sight and turned all growly and possessive. Sure, these novels were quite romantic (and often erotic) to read, but that didn't necessarily mean that they were actually true.

"Don't be so literal, Hermione," she could almost hear Harry's voice in the tone he used for her when she was overthinking things. She shook her head, grinning.

She wondered whether there would be a way to find out. She knew that werewolves kept to themselves as much as they could. The Ministry had laws which protected werewolves after the war, but the social discrimination still existed, making them hesitant to come out to the open.

Hermione flipped through the book, now inwardly laughing at some of the scenes she thought as ridiculous. For example, when the delicate female heroine met the greatly feared werewolf for the first time and when their eyes locked, she could feel a tingle and he literally growled out the word mate, getting all possessive.

How did they even seem to know whether that person was their mate by a few seconds of eye contact? It seemed so illogical. Also, in this book, it featured these two lovers as people who happened to meet each other purely by chance, never having met each other before.

If that was the case, how were they supposed to love each other in such a short time? It clearly did not make sense. How could you love someone without knowing their habits or what kind of a person they were? Mate bonds were actually two strangers staring at each other feeling a tingle and getting all lovey-dovey.

Also, she hated how the male characters were always so possessive. She understood that the writer was trying to convey how the male was more animalistic and territorial of what he considered his. However, she thought that it would be stifling if this were to happen in real life. No matter how much somebody loved or cared about her, it would be simply irritating if her lover forbids her from talking to any male for any reason just because he was jealous. She needed her freedom.

Rolling her eyes, Hermione stretched and got up. She had a meeting with one of her new clients. She had worked in the Department of Magical Enforcement after the war, but she had found the ministry quite stifling to work in. Despite the war, blood prejudice still existed, and older, pureblooded wizards simply refused to acknowledge her work sometimes. They were often rude to her and looked down at her work. She had left the ministry after a particularly nasty incident with one of the senior wizards.

She now worked as a freelancer, going around and acting as a lawyer to people who were discriminated against their will because of their blood status or because they were related with a magical animal.

Hermione briefly wondered what her new client would be like this time. She had been doing this just over two years and had met various people. She only knew that he was a wizard. Gathering her bags, she apparated to where they had promised to meet – a café in muggle London. She expected her client to be a muggleborn like her, or at least a half-blood. Not that she didn't believe that purebloods could be acquainted with the muggle world, she had almost never seen them do so.

The café was bustling with people. She looked around for the window seat as the letter had specified.

The window seat was concealed by a curtain, intended to give the speakers some privacy. She inhaled and cast a shield charm around herself before drawing the curtain open. Although the war was long over, she still could feel its aftereffects. Some of Voldemort's death eaters who were not caught continued to cause trouble and stirring up fear within people by firing up dark marks and attacking muggleborns. The aurors were having a hard time trying to capture them all. There was a constant threat of being attacked.

On guard, she drew the curtain open and peered inside. There was no one there. She was about to cast a human-revealing charm when she felt somebody behind her. She whirled around, pointing her wand towards the offender.

"Malfoy?"

It had been a long time since she had last seen him. In fact, the last time he had properly seen him was before the war, during seventh year at Hogwarts. He looked different. His appearance was the same, with his blond hair and grey eyes, but there was something unsettling about him that she could not quite catch.

She stared at his steel grey eyes. Something flickered behind them, but in a moment, he concealed his emotion in his tightly controlled mask she was used to seeing.

"It's been a long time, Granger," He addressed her quietly.

Hermione was astonished. Was he actually being polite?

Malfoy gave her a slight push.

"It's best if we go in there," he told her urgently.

"I can't," she told him, still astonished. "I have a meeting with one of my clients,"

He gave her a pointed look.

"Are you my client? Why did you hire me?" She asked, not realizing that her voice was steadily getting louder.

Malfoy pushed her into the alcove, closing the curtain behind them. She held her wand up to him a threatening stance.

"What the hell, Malfoy?" she glared at him.

He seemed unfazed by her actions. He let out a smirk.

"Really Granger, you haven't changed a bit," he said, languidly sitting down. He gestured at the seat across him, indicating that she should sit down as well. She glared at him suspiciously.

"Granger, sit down. I haven't got all day," He let out, his voice turning steely.

"No, Malfoy," She spit out. "I need to know why you are here. Why did you hire me? Why are we meeting in a muggle café?"

"I thought you provided non-discriminatory law service to your clients, Ms. Granger," he answered instead, his voice cool.

Hermione bristled. His professional tone made her feel inexperienced. He was right. Partly the reason why she was successful after such a short time in her job was because she accepted everybody, even if other lawyers turned them down. It was one of her characteristics that set her apart. She willed herself to calm down.

Fine, professional it is.

She sat down, crossing her legs. "What do you need help on, Mr. Malfoy?" she asked, getting her notepad out. Malfoy or not, he hired her. She had a duty for her client. She was working. Or at least, that's what she tried to convince herself.

Malfoy smirked. She sat still, gripping the notepad tightly, pressing down her urge to hyperventilate.

"I need you to swear on secrecy first, Granger," He held out a long piece of parchment.

"I have never intentionally exposed any of my past client's information, Mr. Malfoy," she told him coolly, ignoring his outstretched hand.

Malfoy regarded her with calculative eyes.

"Fine," he said, putting his contract away.

Hermione was honestly surprised. She thought that he wouldn't back down without a fight.

"What, did you just agree with me?" she asked, trying and failing to keep the surprise from her voice.

Malfoy rolled his eyes.

"Yes, Granger, as some people, unlike you, have the capability to actually think and agree about things," he remarked, sounding bored.

She felt her blood boil. He hadn't changed one bit, from his pompous manner to his clear disregard of her. He still seemed to enjoy riling her up. She shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts.

"What can I do for you today, Mr. Malfoy?" She asked, trying (and failing) to sound as if his passing comment had not bothered her. She tried to keep the irritation from her voice. He just seemed amused by her internal struggle. Jerk.

"I need you to go against a newspaper for me, Granger," Malfoy replied. "They are trying to publish things about me that I wish would stay secret,"

"Like what?" she bit out, "The numerous dark artifacts in your big and lovely manor, perhaps?"

Malfoy glared at her. She was startled by the dark, almost feral look in his eyes.

"Never," he spit out, "Never mention the manor again, Granger,"

He seemed almost pained. Hermione was taken aback. That was the most emotion she had seen in Malfoy in her whole life. Turns out he was human, after all. She gritted her teeth. She just wanted to get this meeting over with.

"Look Malfoy, just tell me why you hired me, so I can leave in peace," She replied with a sigh.

Malfoy regarded her with cold eyes. She stared defiantly back.

"Fine. Granger, if I hear any of this outside this room, I will kill you," he replied.

Hermione tried not to flinch. She had received numerous death threats in her life, but she knew they were mostly false or meant to be threatening. However, Malfoy was different. She knew he really would kill her as he promised. She didn't expect him to be direct about it, though.

She nodded, gesturing for him to go on.

"A magazine, the Witch Weekly, is trying to find out something about me," he continued. She let a wince at the mention of the magazine.

"Why, do they want to nominate you for the Most Eligible Bachelor again?" she sarcastically retorted, internally wondering why Malfoy would care about something as trivial as the Witch Weekly. Although the magazine did have a lot of subscribers all over Britain, is was known for being unrealistic and full of gossip. Most people did not even consider it to be a credible source.

Malfoy rolled his eyes.

"Shut up Granger. Let me talk before you jump to your absurd conclusions,"

She let out a sigh.

"Apparently, some reporter decided to stalk me," he continued. "I can't even step a foot outside my house without her following. I had to transfigure my face today to meet you here in secret,"

Hermione snorted.

"I mean, Malfoy, I'm sure you could find a lawyer who is of better blood status than me," she snapped back. She was surprised at herself at how rude she was to him. She had never been this emotional with any of her clients or when she had faced past enemies. Malfoy was bringing things out of her that she did not notice before. It was unsettling.

Malfoy's left hand clenched into a fist. Except for that, she could not detect any evidence that her words had angered him. She was amazed at his self-control.

"Look, Granger. For once, could you keep your mouth shut? Can't you get through that thick bushy head of yours that I need your help?" he retorted, his normally pale face flushing pink. Whether it was due to embarrassment or anger, she could not tell.

Hermione was amazed. She wondered exactly what happened to him, to make him directly admit that he needed her help. She then remembered all she had to go through because of him. The war, the pain, Dumbledore…

People could say that she was being bitter, not getting over the past and holding grudges. But she knew that being able to remember the past was her coping mechanism. The war wasn't something that could be ignored by her. It had taken a huge portion of her life, no matter how trivial it seemed to other people. She had suffered from it, lost the people that she loved because of it. She had too many scars that she couldn't cover by simply forgetting. Did she have to help him?

Her curiosity won over, though. She wondered what exactly happened to Draco Malfoy, the proud pureblood Slytherin. If it had been five years ago, he would have either hexed her or bled to death before he came to willingly ask her for her help.

"You know, the Witch Weekly have been publishing articles about werewolves these past few weeks," he continued, "And for some reason, they decided to stalk me. They found out something that could damage my reputation and name. Well, more than it currently is, anyway." He replied with a bitter laugh.

"What… exactly did they find out?" she asked hesitantly. For a fleeting moment, she wondered whether Malfoy had a dungeon full of people whom he tortured. Although she had never seen him act remotely evil, given his family reputation, it was quite predictable.

Malfoy looked at her warily.

"Swear you wouldn't tell any of this, Granger."

She rolled her eyes.

"It is stated in our initial contract that I do not have the rights to leak any of my client's information, Mr. Malfoy," She answered.

"If you recall seventh year," he said in a more subdued voice, "I was gone for the majority of the year after the incident in the Astronomy Tower."

She let out a long sigh.

"I think Potter suspected that I got the Dark Mark during my long absence, but in reality, I was bitten." He paused.

"What do you mean, bitten?" she asked.

He looked at her conflictingly, as if he was having an internal battle within himself.

"I was bitten by Fenir Greyback, Granger."

She stared at him.

"I'm a werewolf."

She kept on staring at him.

"And well, I need your help."


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Note: Second chapter is up! Enjoyy

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Hermione stared at Malfoy. She tried to determine whether he was joking or not. Well, he was not the person to joke around, but still…

"So, to rephrase what you said, you are currently a werewolf because Fenir Greyback bit you?"

He let out a sigh. Hermione noticed, with a start, that it sounded more like a growl. She stared at him curiously.

"Yes, Granger," He said in a bored voice. "Do try to keep up."

Hermione ignored the subtle bite in his words and sipped her tea. She wondered what had really happened to Malfoy. She knew that his family valued blood purity over everything, even their own happiness. She let out a quiet snicker, imagining how Lucius Malfoy would have reacted to this situation. His well-bred, pureblooded only son, turned into a werewolf, now asking help from a mudblood in a café full of muggles. He would be rolling in his grave.

"Something funny, Granger?"

Malfoy was looking at her with narrowed eyes. She hastily turned her laugh into a cough. Much to her embarrassment, she sounded like she was hacking out a hairball.

"How did that happen? I mean, your family used to insanely value blood purity… what happened?" She clapped a hand over her mouth when she realized what she had blurted out.

Malfoy glowered at her.

"I never wanted this. Hell, nobody would want this," he spit out, his voice bitter. He took his dark coat off, revealing the white shirt he was wearing underneath. He was wearing an expensive-looking muggle suit, she realized. She could bet that even that suit, muggle or not, was perfectly tailored. The shallow collar of the shirt did nothing to conceal the angry red bite mark on the side of Malfoy's pale neck.

Hermione let out a gasp. He looked at her ruefully.

"It was punishment for what my father did. He somehow got on the Dark Lord's bad side. That snake just had to choose me as a sacrifice. My father didn't really do anything to stop what that bastard did to me."

Hermione looked at Malfoy with pity. Most of the wizarding world still hated him for being a Malfoy. In truth, he was one of the people who had suffered the most. The good side detested him for being on Voldemort's side, while the dark side itself, instead of favoring him, treated him like an outcast when he failed to kill Dumbledore. It was sad, really.

"Stop looking at me like that, Granger," Malfoy glared at her, his grey eyes piercing. She quickly looked down at her lap. Exactly how hard was his life? He didn't deserve this.

"Now, how does you being a werewolf relate to Witch Weekly?" She asked, trying to subtly change the subject. She tried to lighten the heavy mood, but her voice came out fake. Malfoy stared at her suspiciously, as if he wanted to detect something from her face. To her relief, he looked away after a few moments.

"You see, Granger, I would be in a very compromising position if anybody figured out that I was a werewolf," Malfoy said slowly.

"Seems like it," Hermione said under her breath. Malfoy raised an eyebrow at her.

"Witch Weekly somehow managed to find out that I was one, although I haven't told anyone else. They threatened me that they would publish an article about me on Monday."

Hermione let out a gasp.

"Merlin, Malfoy, you only have three days left! What are you going to do?" She asked.

"That's the reason why I hired you, Granger. I have dealt with angry people sending me death threats, but the press… I'm not sure how big the damage would be. If my current situation is revealed, it would be critical to my name and my business."

She nodded, but a part of her still didn't want to believe that this was real.

"It's only a gossip magazine, Malfoy," she tried to argue.

"Will people believe it for real? I mean, you already had a couple dozen scandals reported just by that magazine alone. Why would that be different with this situation? I don't think people will believe it,"

Malfoy looked at her like she was dumb.

"Granger, I thought you were better than this. Seems like you were just a muggleborn after all,"

"Excuse me?"

She felt her voice going shrill.

"You have only seen werewolves under the protection of Dumbledore. You haven't really seen how they were treated in real life. People hate us, Granger. They would do anything to tear us down. Werewolf rights? Nobody cares about them. You don't know what it's really like."

Two red spots appeared on his cheekbones, his voice getting louder.

"You don't know anything, Granger. You don't know how many people are waiting to pounce on us to tear the Malfoy name, to tear my name, apart. If THEY know that I'm a werewolf, they'll drag the Malfoy name through mud. I spent so much time building my company and getting back what my father messed up. I can't go through that again,"

He breathed out heavily, covering his face with his hands. His hands were trembling.

Hermione nodded, at a loss for words. Although she didn't pretend to understand Malfoy, she knew that he was right. After the war, the Malfoy name had gone down in status. She had vaguely heard that Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy had died, and that Malfoy had built a business on healing potions. He had started out rough, but had finally gained trust within the Wizarding community after a couple of years. He finally gained the respect of the wizarding community when he produced a line of modified wolfsbane potion that reduced the pain of transformations. She knew how big this damage would be to his carefully built reputation.

A part of her wanted to just ignore him and walk away; the part which had screamed in the Manor parlor after too many crucios thrown her way. She wanted to pretend that this meeting had never happened, and that she didn't have to work to save Malfoy's reputation.

"Let him be ruined again," she wanted to say. "He's considered evil anyway."

However, another, more rational part of her knew that he didn't deserve it. He was just a scared boy, like everyone else was. To be honest, she knew that she would have been forced to go to the dark side, or at least pretended to, if an evil maniac snake-faced wizard was camping out in their house (who wouldn't?). If her loved ones' lives were on the line, she knew that she would have made the same choices as Malfoy had.

Why was life so hard for her?

Rubbing her temples, she sighed. He came to her for help. Maybe he had really changed, and would respect muggleborns after this. She knew that her hopes might be futile and that she would be hurt again, but she couldn't release that one shard of hope. She just made life harder for herself. She sometimes hated herself that way.

"Does the Witch Weekly have concrete evidence that you're a werewolf?" she asked briskly, preparing to take notes.

Malfoy nodded grimly. He seemed to be in control of himself again.

"Yeah. They sent me a collection of the photos they took of me during my transformation. Pretty concrete,"

Hermione let out a grimace.

"And their incentive? Did they have a specific reason for threatening you?"

He shook his head.

"It's outrageous. They didn't even say anything about it. Also, they didn't promise to delete my pictures forever; it only specified this one time. So there is a high possibility that they will use it for blackmail again,"

Hermione nodded.

"Did Witch Weekly as a whole threaten you, or is it specifically just one person?" she asked.

Malfoy opened his mouth to answer, then closed it, looking puzzled.

"I actually have no clue," he said, looking mystified.

"I got the warning and the threats by letter. I have never actually seen this person,"

Hermione nodded.

"It will be less of a threat for you if the person targeting you is an individual, not the whole Witch Weekly itself. The amount of people who know this will be smaller if an individual is targeting you."

Malfoy nodded slowly, as if he were already making a mental list of the potential people who could have threatened him.

"I think what you should do is to send a letter to the person who have been sending you the threats. You should tell him to meet you in person, saying that you want to make a deal with them. What do you think?" Hermione asked.

Malfoy nodded, seeming to be deep in thought.

"I think that will work. It would be best if I tell the person to meet somewhere inconspicuous."

"That sounds reasonable. Contact me after you've met this person, Malfoy. If this person doesn't answer within a day, we'll have to come up with a backup plan." Hermione said briskly, gathering up her belongings. She wanted to end this meeting as soon as possible to have some thinking time by herself.

Hermione still did not understand him. Why would he come to her, out of all the prestigious lawyers out there? She expected that a family as rich and influential as the Malfoys would have a family lawyer which took care of everything for them. She also knew that the manor was heavily guarded from intruders; centuries of magic protected them from almost everything (well, except for noseless bald wizards). How could have the reporter gotten proper pictures when it was nearly impossible to enter the Manor grounds?

She knew that she would have to ask these questions someday, but she wanted to find out who the person threatening Malfoy was. A new young and reckless reporter, probably. Although the Malfoy had considerably gone down in status compared to before the war, it still was an ancient family with power and connections. It was foolish, really, to try to take a jab at Malfoy.

She had to admit that she was intrigued at the case. All of her other cases were majorly domestic disputes or light crimes that needed a simple testament on her case, which didn't take long to prepare for. However, Malfoy's case could lead to a legal battle between him and Witch Weekly, the biggest and most influential case she has ever done. She was drawn to it.

But then she also remembered the pain, the screaming, the cackling. She knew that it wasn't his fault that she was tortured in that awful parlor. She ruefully rubbed her arm where the scar still cut into her skin. Her mind just turned away from him, as if to block the onslaught of memories that his face brought.

She let out a light sigh, turning to go out of the small curtained chamber.

"Wait, Granger," Malfoy reached out and grabbed her arm. She felt a small shock where their skin touched. Static electricity, probably. "Yes?" she asked, refusing to turn around.

"Would you be willing to have lunch with me? I have a few more matters to discuss with you," Malfoy said smoothly, gesturing towards his watch, which read noon.

Hermione wanted to just go back to her flat. She desperately needed to sort out her thoughts.

"I'm sorry Malfoy; I have another meeting scheduled soon," she said, trying to subtly exit the small curtain closed space they had been talking in.

Malfoy shook his head.

"No, you don't. I checked with your assistant ahead of time," he replied, not releasing her arm. "We both know you have time left; why don't you join me for lunch?"

Hermione tried to tug her arm out of his grip with no avail. She gritted her teeth.

"Fine, then. I only have an hour for lunch, though,"

Malfoy smirked at her. He held his arm out. Hermione looked at him questioningly.

"Manners, Granger. A gentleman should offer a lady his arm." Malfoy rolled his eyes. He sounded bored, as if he expected her to know this already. "I'm not going to harm you, Granger. It would be terribly irritating for you to die before you solve my case. We're going to go to a restaurant near here,"

Nodding her head, she hesitantly slipped her hand into the crook of his arm.


	3. Chapter 3

Author's Note: I hope you guys are coping okay with everything that is going on right now. Please take care and stay safe. I hope this chapter can cheer you up a little.

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Not to her surprise, the lunch itself was wonderful. Malfoy always did have exquisite taste in food. She found out that Malfoy liked his steaks almost raw, grilled very slightly on the surface to reduce the bloodiness and redness and to add a whiff of smoke.

"Malfoy would be sophisticated even with his animalistic tendencies," she thought with a grin to herself. Malfoy looked at her questioningly, handling his knife and fork in an impeccable manner. The glass of valuable red wine next to him completed the image. She laughed out loud.

Malfoy was looking at her strangely.

"Are you quite all right, Granger?" he asked dryly, his eyes amused. The wine loosened him up, reducing the slight awkward air between them.

Clearing her throat to appear like she hadn't laughed at all, she readjusted her napkin on her lap and tried to look dignified.

"The food is lovely, Mr. Malfoy," she replied, trying to stifle the laughter that threatened to burst out of her chest. She probably looked constipated. More like a pufferfish, perhaps. "You mentioned something about having more matters to discuss," she continued, trying to organize her features into a more professional expression while attempting to cut her asparagus in half. It was being stubborn. "Could you elaborate?"

"Why yes, Miss Granger," he replied, mimicking her tone. She could hear the smirk in his voice. She had to admit that his attempt to look serious was much more successful than hers. Every time she glanced up at him, an image of a silver wolf (his wolf would definitely be silver; just look at his hair) with an expensive knife and fork set in his paws overlapped. It wasn't funny, but still…

"Witch Weekly demanded a portion of the Malfoy Potions stock in the muggle world. They apparently want to extend their influence."

Hermione nodded, chewing thoughtfully on the finally cut asparagus. It was good. "Is there a particular reason why you haven't reported this to the Magical Law Enforcement squad or drawn up a claim for negotiation? I hold you extremely capable of handling your legal matters by yourself."

Malfoy looked oddly pleased. "You are observant, I give you that, Granger," he continued. "I usually would have tried to negotiate by either giving them money or filing a claim. But Witch Weekly was adamant about refusing monetary compensation. They only wanted stocks to become an influential shareholder. Also, you have experienced Magical Law Enforcement yourself, Granger. They are quite prejudiced. I can't risk my condition being leaked to the whole ministry."

Hermione took a sip of her sparkling water. The restaurant was fancy, serving sparkling water with lemon instead of still water. She enjoyed it immensely.

What Malfoy said was completely understandable. It was one of the main reasons why she decided to quit her job at Magical Law Enforcement. The war did nothing to reduce the amount of prejudice towards werewolves. In some way, it enhanced the public hatred of them, mainly because of Fenir Greyback and his pack. The stories told after the war about him brutally attacking children and women alike drove the people into shared hatred of the species.

She also knew that there were snitches within the department that would do anything to cause a scandal. The ministry wanted another Voldemort figure that they could steer the public hatred and fear on. Often these figures came from the Magical Law Enforcement itself, such as past Death Eaters. A little combined feeling of the two emotions among the public helped keep them together. It helped the ministry do things their own way, successfully driving their attention away from what really happened at the Ministry. She was aware that most muggle governments used this method as well. Keep their attention elsewhere.

Hermione had seen their methods the moment she stepped into office. She tried to change it. But she was a muggleborn and a witch. She would never admit it to anybody, but she knew that even her status of being a war heroine or the smartest witch of her age would not help her against the old men of the Wizengamot or the high officials. It had been her crash against reality. No matter how accepting the ministry was of muggleborns, there was a glass wall she could not penetrate. Her younger self would not have accepted it. The younger Hermione might have wanted to become Minister and change what she thought was wrong. She would have been a bulldozer. But after that incident in the ministry, she could not make herself face it.

Hermione shook her head to clear her thoughts. She didn't want to think of that incident, especially now, when she was seated across Malfoy and was having what was probably one of the best steaks in muggle London.

"I can see that you have really thought this through, Malfoy," She replied, reaching for the bread in the breadbasket. It was toasted just right. Malfoy pushed the basket over to her, handing her a butter knife. Their fingers touched briefly.

"Yes Granger," he replied, his face turning tense again. "This is crucial for my business and my reputation as well."

Hermione nodded. "I think that finding out whether there is a specific figure behind this is the most important, Malfoy. Are there any other people who are aware of your(was there a way to address this more subtly?)condition?" She asked, gesturing vaguely to his neck with the buttered slice of bread she was holding.

Malfoy let out a low chuckle. He seemed amused. "You can talk about it, Granger, I won't be offended," he replied, handing her another napkin. She took it from him absentmindedly, dabbing at the butter on her fingers.

"There are only a limited number of people who know my lycanthropy. My parents knew, of course, but they are now dead. I suppose some of the past Death Eaters knew, but I do not think that they are alive, or sane enough, to spread that I am one."

Taking a sip of her water, Hermione placed her knife and fork on her plate carefully. The steak had been excellent. "How about your friends?" she asked, wondering if Malfoy still spent time with Parkinson and Zabini like he did back in Hogwarts. She had heard that Goyle had been accused and sent to Azkaban, but she did not know much about the others.

"Good question. My assistant knows, as she has to cover up my monthly disappearances and plan my schedule so that I wouldn't have any significant events that collide with my transformation. Some of my close friends, such as Blaise and Theodore also know."

He took a drink of his water and wiped his mouth with his napkin. His grey eyes stared off into space, thoughtful.

"Those are the only ones that I can think of at the moment. Dessert?"

Hermione was taken aback.

"I'm sorry?"

Malfoy gestured to her now-empty plate. "You seemed to have enjoyed your steak. Do you have a preference for dessert? I strongly recommend the chocolate gateau here," he replied, calling the waiter over to their table.

Hermione stared at him. He looked less cold, probably because of the wine and excellent food. If she hadn't been intentionally observant, she knew that she would have missed the subtle actions that truly showed his lycanthropy underneath. Brief, small twitches of his eye at loud noises due to his more sensitive hearing. Constant sniffing of the air around him, although it was done in such an unnoticeable manner that she had not picked up on it until well into their meal. On another person it might have been a nervous habit. But she knew Malfoy was never nervous. Or rather, he never showed his nervousness to others. He definitely was skilled at concealing his werewolf tendencies. A normal person would never dream that he was anything else but a well-mannered gentleman.

The waiter had arrived with their dessert. It looked magnificent. Malfoy gestured for her to try it first.

"Why are you being so nice to me?" She blurted out.

Malfoy looked at her, amused. "I'm being polite, Granger, not being nice. Granted, being with Weasley all those years together would have lowered your standards of what you call nice. I just have proper manners."

Hermione snorted, ignoring his jab at Ron. She took a bite of her dessert instead. It felt like heaven, with the smooth, warm chocolate melting perfectly with cloudy froths of whipped cream and cold vanilla ice cream which kept it from being overly sweet. She let out a little sigh.

Malfoy was right, in a way. Although Ron was still one of her closest friends, he possessed the table manners of a much lesser being. She shuddered, recalling how he used to talk with his mouth full, splattering her plate with bits of his food. She had learned to keep her plate away from him after that. At least Malfoy still possessed impeccable table manners even after half transforming into an animal himself, although it was the first time those impeccable manners were directed towards her. It confused her. It prevented her from seeing what was happening clearly.

Dessert finished, Hermione stood up to put her coat on. "It has been a pleasure, Mr. Malfoy," she said, trying to get back to her flat as soon as possible. She needed time to think it all out. Today had been full of surprises she hadn't expected. Malfoy being overly polite didn't help clear her thoughts. The faster she got out of this scene, the better. She needed time to figure out what was really going on.

"The pleasure was all mine, Granger," Malfoy replied, touching her arm, helping her into her coat. She jerked back in surprise. It seemed like he didn't notice that he had touched her on that particular arm. "I'll owl you soon about the reply."

Letting out a shaky breath, Hermione nodded. He probably didn't know. She tried to regain composure and act as if his touch, intentional or not, hadn't affected her. She straightened her coat. She took a step away from him.

"Alright. Have a nice day, Mr. Malfoy," she stiffly said, turning away and trying to walk the fastest she could without seeming rude. He had touched her on her scarred arm, the one his aunt had carved into her.

She took deep breaths. "He probably didn't do it on purpose," she tried to reason, walking faster towards the apparition point. It's ridiculous, she told herself firmly. That was years ago. He could have done nothing to help her.

No matter how many healers or muggle therapists she visited, she still couldn't seem to shake off the night in the manor with Bellatrix over her. She had felt so numb after that, as if all the warmth and life that was in her body had seeped out through the word Bellatrix had carved into her arm. Even on brilliantly sunny days she felt cold like dementors were constantly hovering over her. She knew that Malfoy couldn't have done anything while his aunt had done that to her. But a part of her, the part that mourned over the warmth that had been inside her forever which she could never seem to get back again, blamed him for doing nothing but just standing there. She had hated him then. Her logical brain knew there was nothing he could have done. Yet she knew that a fragment of her still loathed him.

Feeling his touch on that arm brought back the memories and the coldness she never could seem to shake off. She had been doing so well, even managing to almost enjoy her lunch without dissolving into hysterical tears. It was that simple touch on her arm. She could see too much of Bellatrix in him. She wanted to run away from him, away from all the painful moments she could never bear to properly think again- the screaming, the nightmares, the rough carpet under her cheek.

Hermione forcefully stopped her train of thoughts. She needed to stay logical. She couldn't afford to let something as insignificant as her past emotions interfere with what was probably the biggest case she has ever handled. She needed to keep her emotions in check. It was her only way of coping. If she let them out completely, if she truly admitted what she was feeling, she knew she would never be able to snap back to her controlled self that she practiced so hard to achieve. It was her way of survival. There was no time to feel.

The case. She needed to think about the case.

Malfoy's case was intriguing. It was more so because the way he acted around her changed as well. There were no sneers, constant mudblood insults, or nasty comments about her hair. Granted, they had been kids back then. She wondered whether this was all a show to make her trust him, knowing that he certainly had the capability. Maybe he was purposefully charming to her during the duration of filing his claim, then go back to his usual unpleasant self again. Whatever the reason, it confused her. It made her feel oddly vulnerable, as if hating Malfoy had been one of the reasons why she stayed strong all these years while others crumbled against her. She had felt brave back then, when her numbness towards Malfoy and the other Death Eaters had helped her testify against them. She could look at them in the eye without flinching and remembering what they did to her friends. Now she just felt drained and weak. It made her feel unprofessional.

Hermione rubbed her aching temples. Meeting Draco Malfoy dislodged the barriers she so carefully placed around her mind. She hoped to Merlin that this would be over soon.


	4. Chapter 4

Author's Note: I changed my username! If you guys were confused, I'm sorry. Are you guys doing okay? I hope everything is safe and well with all of you.

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Hermione stepped into the familiar quiet of her flat. Quiet was good. Quiet allowed her to hear herself.

She had been living with Ron until a few months ago while they were dating. Their relationship had been expected by the people around them and by themselves as well. Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley. The perfect two couples to celebrate the end of the dreadful war and the fall of the darkest wizard in modern day Britain. Nothing could be more beautiful than fresh young love which also happened to include the very ones who helped defeat Voldemort. How lovely.

At first, Hermione had thought that she had liked it as well. Ron was one of her best friends, after all. They had been dancing around each other and refusing to acknowledge their emotions for the past eight years. It felt nice to finally admit their feelings to each other. It was great. Ron was affectionate towards her and it was wonderful to just take a walk around the block holding hands without worrying about evil snake men trying to kill their best friend or the world collapsing around them. It felt nice, having peaceful night conversations with Ron, with him usually taking about what happened in the auror office and the cases they've received.

It felt too nice, like a fairytale.

It felt fake.

She found herself waiting for the fight that would inevitably come like it did during their Hogwarts years. Ron and her, no matter how close they were, would always fight. It was different from her fights with Harry. Harry felt like a brother. Their fights would usually end in hugs and halfhearted apologies over hot chocolate. It wasn't like that with Ron. Fights with Ron left marks.

Maybe she tried too hard. She wanted everything to be perfect. Maybe she had wanted their relationship to be like that as well. She wanted to be just right for Ron. In hindsight, she should have known that their relationship would come to an end, that the peacefulness would draw to a close.

Ron always had insecurity issues. He was surrounded by amazingly talented brothers. His best friend was Harry Potter, who had always been in the spotlight throughout his whole life. It didn't help that her younger self had constantly corrected him and acted like a know-it-all. She had thrown his insecurities back at his face without knowing that she had.

She had been terribly insecure as well. Hermione wanted to be accepted by the wizarding world. She had already been labeled as an outcast in primary school because the other children had thought that she was peculiar due to her magic. She also wanted to prove that although she was a muggleborn, she had the same magic as purebloods did, that she was talented as well. She intentionally tried to show that she knew the answers, always raising her hand in classes, to prevent people from looking down at her because of her blood. She wanted to fit in.

Her insecurities combined with Ron's jealousy and insecurities of his own accumulated over years in hurtful conversations and many cold intervals with them ignoring each other. They had also liked each other too much and were too young and naïve to see it in each other. Looking back, the way Ron and her and danced around each other by making each other jealous and pretending that they did not care for each other had been too damaging. She always felt like she wasn't good enough, trying to change herself to fit what Ron liked. She found herself hating how she couldn't to fit into Ron's standards when she knew that she was completely unique in her own way. The years of trying to get his attention had been too hurtful.

She still loved him. She could never stop loving him. He was her best friend, after all. But it hurt too much to love him. Hermione always found herself staring into the mirror at her reflection, wondering how she could change to finally become his type. She hated how she didn't feel confident enough about herself.

Meanwhile, Ron seemed to be struggling with the opposite. Every time they fought, he would complain about how she was always right. He sometimes seemed intimidated by her outgoing personality. Hermione liked talking about literature and how some authors were just amazing and made her cry and how poems were meant to be read alone in the window seat with her cat cuddled up to her. She liked tasting expensive wine. She liked taking long walks through art galleries and getting lost in big museums. She liked musicals. Ron didn't.

He thought that art galleries were too boring (Why would you pay money to look at different versions of black paint? They're all black anyway…) and that wine seemed too fancy. Books did not make him cry and he didn't seem to understand that she wanted to be left alone when she was reading. Her talks about her favorite quotes didn't seem to have the same touching effect on him as they did to her. He slept through the Broadway production of Les Miserables they watched during their trip to America.

Ron did try, though. It made her love him more. He did try to go to art galleries with her and to travel to look at ancient Greek ruins. But she saw how much it made him shrink back into himself. He thought that the hobbies she enjoyed and her tastes in food were due to her financially provided upbringing. Hermione couldn't deny that the numerous trips she took with her parents did influence her. With them being dentists, Hermione had been able to enjoy a privileged childhood. Ron, however, had been poor until right after the war. He was insecure about it. She could see how her tastes clashing against his made him feel inferior, mundane, and less experienced.

Their relationship was bad for both of them. She knew that she couldn't stop loving him, though. Ron had been the one that sat up with her all night after her many nightmares about her time in the manor and the war. He had been the one to cheer her up and to support her when she made the decision of leaving the ministry. Ron had moved out, saying that he was sorry their relationship hadn't worked out. She was sorry, too.

Rumbling thunder outside distracted her. Outside it was pouring rain. Hermione let out a light sigh, gathering up Crookshanks in her arms. He let out a purr, nuzzling against her. Thinking about Ron made her sad. She let a huff of laughter, imagining what Ron's reaction would be if he heard about what happened today with Malfoy. He would be livid when he found out. "Nobody would guess that he's a werewolf," Hermione thought, absentmindedly stroking her cat.

Contrary to popular belief, werewolves weren't as violent as most people thought. They did have animalistic tendencies which surprised her from time to time, but they were quite timid in general. They seemed afraid that they would scare her away. At least the ones who were willing to try to live with ordinary witches and wizards, anyway.

Malfoy was different. When she had met with her other werewolf clients, had easily detected that they had lycanthropy. There were always clues that gave it away, such as their hands twitching too much to because of the constant consumption of wolfsbane. There had always been something that she could pick up on. It wasn't like that with Malfoy. Maybe it was because she had been too carried away by her own emotions. She found it deeply unsettling how she managed to miss the clues that should have been obvious to her.

His case was interesting to say the least. She had initially thought that he had undergone his transformations in the manor. If he had done so, there would be no way that a curious reporter would have been able to sneak in and take pictures. The wards around the manor were centuries old and she knew that even blood magic, which was now forbidden, was in use to help protect the manor. An uninvited stranger would not have been able to even locate where it is.

However, the reaction he had shown when she mentioned the manor strongly suggested that he wasn't living there anymore. She wondered what happened in order to make him move out.

Hermione stretched, feeling her shoulders pop. The old orange cat was heavy, and today's events had made her feel more tense than usual. Finding out that her client had been Malfoy was a big surprise. "I should have known," she thought wryly, as she made her way to her kitchen. The owl that had delivered his request had been exceptionally well mannered and the parchment thick and of the expensive quality. It wasn't something everyone would think of spending their galleons on.

Hermione took out a mug from the cupboard, retying her brown hair to keep it away from her face. It was noticeably less bushy than it was at her time at Hogwarts, but it still was too curly for her liking. She should remember to braid it later.

As she poured hot water into the mug with her tea bag (she hated tea leaves after her third year with Trelawney), she heard tapping at her window. A large owl with a letter clutched in its claws, looking drenched because of the filthy weather outside.

"Oh, you poor thing!" Hermione exclaimed, hurriedly opening the window and letting the exhausted bird fly in. He dropped a surprisingly dry letter at her feet and perched on the back of her kitchen chair, clicking its beak and looking irritated. She quickly performed a drying charm on him and handed him a treat. "Take your time resting. I'll send my reply with my owl, and you can fly away when you think you can," she said, stroking the now content owl. She realized with a jolt that it looked familiar with the owl which had delivered to her Malfoy's request. But surely he wouldn't have gotten a reply from Witch Weekly this quickly?

The parchment felt heavy in her hand. It was dry, probably because of the weatherproof spell cast on it by the sender. She slit it open and scanned the contents. As she had expected, it was from Malfoy. Witch Weekly had not agreed to his suggestion to meet but instead sent a letter with different negotiating terms, telling him that they would withhold publishing their article about him if he agreed endorse a portion of the stocks they initially demanded. He asked her to floo call him or owl him as soon as she could.

Hermione glanced at the clock above the fireplace. It read six in the evening. She had had to deal with a couple of more cases after lunch with Malfoy, and she felt tired. She didn't feel like flooing him or owling him when they had a thoroughly exhausting lunch meeting already. It was already past her working hours, anyway. Deciding to floo him in her office at work tomorrow morning, Hermione walked back to the kitchen and began tidying up her flat with sweeping wand strokes. Harry promised that he would come visit her today, and she had to prepare for that as well.

Harry had thankfully remembered to bring takeout with him after being released of his Auror duties for the day, so they opened the boxes of food while sitting in front of the fireplace with their legs folded, watching reruns on the television. They had always had dinner with each other after the war ended on Thursdays by themselves.

They had just began talking about new cases in the ministry when her fireplace roared to life. Harry had already taken out his wand and was pointing at the fireplace. Battlefield reflexes. It saddened her how even in her flat, where it was okay to let his guard down, Harry still remained tense.

"Hello Granger," Malfoy called out, his face lined with stress. "Witch Weekly wouldn't allow me to meet their reporter who gathered my pictures. They would be so kind to extend the deadline, but their deal stays final." Sarcasm was heavy in his voice.

"I thought you asked me to floo you, Malfoy, not the other way around," she replied drily, letting Harry know that it was okay. He seemed confused and was staring at Malfoy's face as if he couldn't believe it.

"You decided to ignore my letter I sent. I specifically asked you to floo as soon as possible, not take your pretty time until you felt like calling me yourself," he snapped back. Hermione rolled her eyes. "I have other cases to take care of as well. You can't just floo me because you wanted to. How did you even find out my floo address anyway?"

Malfoy waved her question away with impatient hands. "Finish all of your cases by tomorrow Granger, or hand them off to another person. I know that you are certainly capable. I need you to focus only on my case." Hermione wondered how he managed to sound like a spoiled brat even with his head poking out of her fireplace. She briefly wondered where the well-mannered gentlemanly side of him had gone.

"I can't do that, Malfoy. You can't just floo me at Merlin knows what time in the evening after my working hours while I'm having dinner. You also can't just order me to drop all my cases that I have been working on. How am I going to explain this to my clients?"

Malfoy opened his mouth as if to reply, then closed it. "You were having dinner?" he asked, sounding hesitant. "Granger, would you mind if I came over? I really need to discuss this case with you," he seemed agitated.

"You can't just barge into my flat, Malfoy," she massaged her temples where a headache was already forming. "We already had a meeting today, and it's past my working hours. You mentioned that Witch Weekly's proposal did give you more time. You can come over to my office tomorrow."

Malfoy looked furious. Harry chose that moment to intervene. "Hello Malfoy, long time no see. I heard that you were doing well with that potions business of yours." Harry voice was stretched so thin, she wondered when he would snap.

"Glad to meet you too, Potter," Malfoy retorted, not sounding glad at all. "I thought you were married to the youngest female Weasley. Or have you ditched her for Granger?"

Harry's face was slowly turning red. "Malfoy." She was too tired for this. "You have no right to be rude to Harry. He was having dinner with me when you interrupted us with your floo call. I'm sorry that I didn't reply right away, but we are talking about this tomorrow at my office, not here. I need you to leave,"

"Granger, I-

She cut him off. "Mr. Malfoy, I'll go over the letter you sent me today and meet you tomorrow at my office at ten. I also have your owl with me, which I will send back as soon as the weather gets better. Have a nice evening," She disconnected the call and warded it so no other calls could get through for the rest of the evening.

Hermione turned around to meet Harry's bewildered eyes and flushed face. "Hermione, what's going on?" he asked, sounding as confused as she felt. She wished she knew the answer.


End file.
